


From the Ashes

by CheshireGrinn (orphan_account)



Series: From The Ashes [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CheshireGrinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has been won, and the kingdom plans to celebrate the return of the rightful royal family.</p><p>Killian decides it's time to start winning Emma's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended as a oneshot...but I get the feeling it's gonna wind up being a multiparted thing.
> 
> Also unbetaed. But hopefully no glaring mistakes.
> 
> Also, Mulan/Tinkerbell?
> 
> SHIPPIN' IT.

 

 _Swans_.

 

There were a dozen pairs, perhaps more, floating serenely on the massive lake, snow white feathers almost glowing with the silver light of the full, heavy moon.

 

The former pirate couldn't decide if the birds were an elegant notion or an overdone gesture, but he _did_ know it was a touch he found personally amusing.

 

He turned his attention from the swans to those making their way from all manner of carriages and horses to the castle.

 

 

A long, long while had been spent restoring the castle to its former majesty. The choking vines had been removed, the stones cleaned and chips and cracks repaired, and the grounds groomed as well. Then they'd turned inside, washing all the rooms in their entirety, from the top of the tallest spire to the ground floor. Tapestries and bedding had been replaced, furniture repaired, and then life slowly returned to normal. 

 

Most of it had been done as a symbol of hope, of a golden era. It was a celebration for the reseating of the royal family, the end of the war of darkness, and the return of the lost princess.

 

 

That lost princess was _precisely_ why one Captain Killian Jones found himself waiting in the shadows of the courtyard. Normally, be wouldn't be caught dead within five miles of the castle on such an occasion, but after turning down the official, royal invite, he found himself unable to refuse the handwritten one that somehow made its way into his cabin on the Jolly Roger. 

 

He simply knew, deep down in the very marrow of his bones, who had penned the lone word— _Please.—_ on the plain card.

 

 

So, here he was, fearless Captain Hook, trying to find the courage to go mingle with individuals so different from him that they might as well have been from a different world.

 

His finery was was far below the level of the other party-goers. It was mostly like his other, everyday outfits, though less rough, less touched by the hard sea wind. The black made the deep crimson of his vest stand out in sharp relief. It was dark, the color of blood, not the bright, raw shade he'd once worn. Milah was long gone, and with her, the vest since retired. A new love, a new color.

 

He'd been tempted toward other colors, other shades, but his eye was always drawn back to that rich, deep scarlet. It reminded him of her; her passion, her anger, her pain, her depth of love, her very _being_. So red it was.

 

With a deep breath and a swig of liquid courage from his flask, he tossed his coat back with a flourish and stepped from the shadows, smirking at the startled squeaks that came from two chattering ladies nearby.

 

He turned a blind eye to the distrustful glances and judging looks, waiting patiently for his arrival to the top of the staircase. When he got there, the frazzled page began stuttering, “U-uh, sir, if-if you'll h-h-hold on a moment, I'll an-announce—”

 

“Oh, no need, mate,” Killian smiled kindly, reaching into his jacket to pull out his flask. He closed the nervous man's shaking hand around the vessel with a wink before slipping inside. 

 

☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ

 

It wasn't hard to find the ballroom, what with all the chatter, music, and trails of guests. He kept mostly to himself, nodding only at the select few that didn't think him unsavory.

 

When he got into the ballroom proper, he was surprised to see how large it was, and just how any bodies could fit in the space. There had to be _at least_ five hundred individuals in the room, and it wasn't yet remotely full.

 

Rich, dark suits swirled among swishing, pastel skirts. Light, pristine finery mingled with mysterious, dark gowns. The heavy smell of several different drinks and various dishes thankfully covered the perfumes many ladies seemed to have _bathed_ in that he got a whiff of when they floated by.

 

He grabbed himself a (not full enough) glass of one of the stronger spirits, and then headed to the more deserted end of the balcony. From his perch—not as good as a crows' nest, but it'd do—he could see many familiar faces.

 

The crocodile kept to himself, but not far from Belle, her golden skirt brushing into the light blue of a blonde princess'. The fawned over the infant in the latter's arms. Six of the seven dwarves sat in the corner, giggling and chuckling at Grumpy's attempts to flirt with the fairy. Regina seemed to find the conversation with Robin interesting enough, and would smile every so often at his son as the former outlaw bounced him on his knee. Aurora, round belly breaking the line of her purple gown, sat with her husband, chatting with a few nobles. Baelfire— _Neal—_ sat with Henry, the pair building things from the silverware and napkins of the table. The boy looked up smiling slightly and waving, though his father's look was far less friendly. Killian smiled slightly himself, saluting the boy. His attention was torn away when the green, choppy-skirted blur of a grinning Tinkerbell as she drug a bewildered and blushing Mulan across the floor blazed by.

 

A flood of people came through the door, so it wouldn't be long before the royal family made their debut. The flow of people slowed, and eventually stopped completely, all conversation hurried with a frantic sort of excitement. The pages gathered at the top of the stairs, knights in pristine silver armor so polish and light it appeared white, edged in deep navy at the bottom. The talking ceased quickly after that.

 

 

Trumpets sounded,p ages and knights stood at attention, and when the instruments stopped, the senior page boomed, “ _Now introducing King David and Queen Snow White, rightful rulers of our beloved kingdom! Long may they reign!”_

 

The cheers were deafening as the royal couple descended the stairs. Davids suit was dark blue, the color of the night sky, though it was edge in pure white; his boots and cape were colored white as well. Snow's dress was just a shade lighter than her flawless skin, falling elegantly off her shoulders to leave them bare. It trailed behind her, her undercoat and necklace the blue of her husband's clothing. The queen's hair remained cropped short.

 

Killian was hard-pressed to recall a happier looking pair. In fact, he didn't know if he _could_. He'd see more than his fair share of fake smiles, to persuade and manipulate, but he'd seen so very few full of true, pure joy. Both wore such gestures; David's was open and bright, while Snow's was softer and more subdued. It was so very simple, so _mundane_ , but irreplaceable and unbreakable. 

 

The king and queen arrives at the bottom of the grand staircase, smiling and waving, but when the happy couple turned to look back at the entryway, his heart stalled in his chest.

 

 

She needed no introduction, yet received one anyway: “ _Now introducing, for the very first time, to the kingdom, the daughter of King David and Queen Snow...Princess Emma Swan, royal and rightful heir to our beloved kingdom_!”

 

Where her parents entered to booming applause, Emma received overwhelmed silence, and he was right there with the masses. Her golden curls were piled atop her head, a few left hanging to frame her face. The necklace around her throat was set in gold, numerous rubies of various sizes and cuts woven together in an intricate, dainty web. The sleeveless, strapless gown had a sweetheart neckline, and a full skirt, but no trail.

 

But the _truly_ eye-catching feature was the _color_. It was a fierce, bright red, just like her signature leather jacket. To see it on her, he knew no other color would ever do. The material over the dress itself was thin, iridescent, and when it caught the light just so, appeared either blue or purple. It reminded him of a flame. She looked flawless, untouchable and fearless, like a battle goddess come to life.

 

 _Swan_. He scoffed. Emma was nothing so _dainty_ as a swan. She was far more powerful, far more rare, brilliant and blazing. She was a phoenix, risen from her ashes.

 

 

She looked untouchable, far above mere mortals, and like a moth to the flame, her was drawn toward the savior. He and many other competitors. The music and chatter resumed, and the swashbuckler in him kicked in. He needed a plan.

 

A short, squat young man took the first dance, and Killian situated himself in a shadow with easy access to the ballroom floor.

 

Many a man were lined up most young, but not all, hoping to curry favor with the returned princess. A marriage to Emma would bolster anyone's lands and wealth, not to mention personal standing, but no one would know her like he did. Not her parents, not Neal. No one.

 

He had his plan, and it didn't take much to put into action. With each dance and new partner, Emma grew more agitated and felt out of depth. It was all in the set of her shoulders, the twist of her mouth, the very glint in her eyes. So when they twirled by, Killian made himself her seventh partner.

 

☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ

 

It was natural, his prosthetic hand at her waist; one of hers on his shoulder; their warm palms clasped. The tension just _melted_ away, and her mouth nearly twitched into a smile, “I wasn't sure you'd come.”

 

“Ah, but how would one justify the denial of a handwritten request of my presence by the princess herself?” He asked with mock seriousness, enjoying the faint blush settling in her cheeks deep down. They twirled flawlessly, much to the chagrin of the majority of the attendees, killed conversations, and awed the crowds. Emma finally looked up, meeting his sea blue eyes with her own silver ones. She smiled wryly, murmuring, “Oh, what do they think of me, I wonder...?”

 

“That you're radiant, more beautiful than any lady to ever step through the kingdom,” He growled lightly, switching hands, allowing her thin one to take his prosthetic one so he could use the other to pull her in close. “They are overjoyed to have their princess back home, back safe,” He chuckled darkly, “ _I_ , on the other hand...”

 

When the next step came up, when it was almost time to spin her away, he kept her close, breathing hot on her ear, “But I shouldn't monopolize the lady's attentions. Until next time, my dear phoenix.”

 

He twirled her away, towards the next waiting prince of noble, but she stopped herself, standing alone in the middle of the floor. He _wanted_ to look back, but didn't allow himself to as he took strong, long strides out the door and into the cool, dark night.

 

It had begun. The bean had been planted. Now it was only a matter of time.

 

☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ☼Ϲ

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That page gets piss drunk, and passes out. He wakes up in a swan's nest. 
> 
> He's possibly Killian's new favorite person.


End file.
